


As A Hello

by ZombieBabs



Series: The Way You Said I Love You [1]
Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 00:25:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6261874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombieBabs/pseuds/ZombieBabs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I love you,” Strand says. The words come out in a rush, as if they’ve been ripped out of him.</p><p>Alex is in the hospital. Strand comes as soon as he hears the news.</p><p>*Edited 7.26.17</p>
            </blockquote>





	As A Hello

**Author's Note:**

> [E_Salvatore](http://archiveofourown.org/users/E_Salvatore/pseuds/E_Salvatore) was handing out prompts from [this tumblr post](http://buckybabs.tumblr.com/post/141090505132/the-way-you-said-i-love-you). I was assigned "as a hello."

The relative quiet of Alex’s hospital room is interrupted by a scuffle, directly outside of her door. Alex looks up from the book in her lap.

The voice on the other side of the door is familiar. Familiar and unexpected. She can’t make out the words, his voice a low grumble muffled through the wall. 

What is audible, however, is the squawk of a frustrated nurse. “Sir!”

The door to Alex’s room bursts open, nearly slamming into the wall on well-maintained hinges. 

Dr. Strand, looking somehow more disheveled than she’s ever him, rushes into the room. 

The nurse follows him into the room. She gives Alex a frazzled look. “Miss Reagan, I’m sorry. I know you’re supposed to be resting, but--”

“No, no,” Alex says. She places the bookmark into her book and sets it aside. “Dr. Strand can stay.”

The nurse flushes red. “Doctor? He doesn’t look--I mean--he never said.” 

Alex can’t blame the nurse. It’s true--Strand looks very much unlike a doctor. His clothes are rumpled. His hair is an unwashed mess. His beard has grown out over the last few weeks. “He doesn’t look the part, but I assure you, he is a doctor.”

Strand, of course, hasn’t moved from his spot. His eyes are glued to Alex and her hospital bed. He does nothing to assure the nurse that he is not, in fact, a rather unstable, unkempt man who may have just wandered in off of the street. 

The nurse gives him a narrow-eyed look of disapproval, before turning back to Alex. “Remember, you’re supposed to be resting. Try to keep the visit short, alright?”

Moving around the statue-like Strand, the nurse exits the room. She closes the door behind her with a soft click.

Strand is silent.

“Dr. Strand?” Alex asks.

“I love you,” he says. The words come out in a rush, as if they’ve been ripped out of him.

He freezes and blinks. He looks like a computer rebooting, like somehow a forced restart will fix a glitch in his system. Then his eyes widen, no longer cool, filled with dawning horror. 

It’s hard to see with his beard so overgrown, but his skin looks a little green. 

He looks like he’s about to vomit.

“Hello to you, too,” Alex says. She tries to sound nonchalant, but her heart pounds in her chest, beating to the rhythm of those three little words.

“I--Hello.”

More silence. 

“What are you doing here?” Alex asks. “I thought you were in Chicago.”

“Your mother called me--called Ruby. I--she said you--” Strand swallows. 

His voice is almost hoarse when he continues. “She said you collapsed. That you were in the hospital. I took the next flight out.”

That would explain the greasy sheen to his hair and the rumpled jeans and T-shirt which have seen more than a day’s wear. And the deep bruised purple circles smudged underneath his eyes. It might even explain the uncharacteristic word vomit.

Alex puts a palm over her eyes and shakes her head. “I’m sorry. She’s a worrier. I don’t know why she called you. She probably made it seem a lot worse than it was--”

Strand looks as if he’s just been struck hard across the face. “You’re in the hospital, Alex.”

“I haven’t been getting any sleep. The doctors say it’s just exhaustion brought on by stress. I’m fine.”

Strand takes in the lack of wires hooking her up to the silent machines near her bed. “Then why are you still here?”

“I’m supposed to be resting while I wait for a psych consult.” 

“A psych consult?”

Alex sighs. “They don’t want to discharge me until I have some sort of plan in place, something for managing stress, so this doesn’t happen again.”

Strand closes his eyes, processing this information. Tension floods out of him, so much so that he sways, looking suddenly as if _he_ is the one about to collapse.

Alex pats the bed beside her. “Come sit down. You must be tired after your flight.”

His steps are a little unsteady, but he makes his way toward the plastic guest chair, the one positioned by her bedside. His tall form all but melts into it.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Are you?”

Alex looks down. The fingers of one hand trace the edges of the book still resting on the mattress. “Terry and Paul decided I need a vacation. I’m not suspended, but…”

“You have no choice in the matter.”

“Yeah.” Alex’s shoulders slump.

She messed up. She _knows_ she messed up. And now she’s paying for it.

“A vacation may be a good thing,” Strand says.

“I guess.” Alex forces a smile. “What about you? What about the podcast?”

“I’ll manage. You need to rest.”

Alex opens her mouth to argue. The expression on his face alone is enough to stop her in her tracks. 

“Please,” he says, “I can’t--”

 _\--lose you_.

Alex’s heart pounds all over again. “Did you mean it? What you said?”

He ducks his head, hiding behind a fringe of hair. “Yes.”

Alex holds out a hand, palm up, for him to take. He places his hand in hers, the movement hesitant, as if he expects her to slap it away.

Alex takes it into both of hers. She brings it up to her lips and presses a kiss to his knuckles.

He lifts his head. His blue eyes search her face, looking for an answer to a question he isn’t brave enough to voice.

Alex smiles. Neither is she brave enough to answer. At least, not yet. Not when they’re both so exhausted. “You look like you could use some rest yourself.”

Strand averts his eyes. “I would like to stay. If you don’t--if you’re not adverse--”

Alex shifts and pats the mattress beside her.

“No, I couldn’t--”

“It’ll be a cozy fit, but I think it’ll do for a nap.”

Indecision clouds his eyes.

“The nurse said the psychiatrist should be able to see me in a few hours. I probably won’t be discharged until dinner time. Until then, I’m supposed to be resting. There’s no reason we can’t do so together.”

When he still doesn’t move, Alex pats the bed again. “It’s gotta be more comfortable than that chair. You look like you’re sitting at the kid’s table at Thanksgiving.”

A small smile curls the edges of his mouth. He shifts from the chair--which is really too small for a grown man of his height--to sit beside her on the bed, his feet still on the floor.

Alex wriggles down until her head hits the pillow. The bed shifts as Strand lies down beside her, his entire body one long line of tension.

Smiling, Alex turns on her side. She rests her head on his chest and lays an arm loosely over his stomach. She sighs and snuggles into the warmth of him.

Strand’s voice rumbles in his chest. “You lied to that woman.”

“What woman? The nurse?”

“You told her I was a doctor.”

“Aren’t you?” Alex asks through a yawn.

“I am not a medical doctor.”

“I never said you were.”

Strand exhales a laugh. “She assumed, just as you knew she would.”

“So?” 

“This is highly inappropriate behavior for a doctor and his patient.” 

“Our highly illicit nap will be the talk of the floor,” she says, voice slurring in half-sleep. “Do you think she’ll be disappointed when she finds out you’re a just paranormal investigator with a Ph.D.?”

He cards his fingers through her hair. It’s nice and the sensation pulls her even deeper toward sleep.

“Sleep well, Alex.”

Alex answers, meaning to wish him the same. She murmurs into his shirt. “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> *Edited 7.26.17


End file.
